“I’m going on. Scene 5th. A very comic scene this. Executive mansion. Emissaries of the Confederacy inviting President Jemmy to withdraw United States troops from Fort Sumter. Emissaries from Major Anderson beseeching President Jemmy to reinforce United States troops at Fort Sumter. President Jemmy standing hesitating between two opinions, like the donkey between two bundles of hay—doesn’t know what to do, and does nothing.” “The man must have been in his dotage!” exclaimed Justin. “Probably! We didn’t object to that! But let us proceed with the play. Scene 6th. A splendid spectacular scene this—embracing the whole depth of the stage, the full force of the company, brilliant fireworks, _et cetera_. In short—The bombardment of Fort Sumter! The fall of Fort Sumter! Lowering of the Star-Spangled Banner. Elevation of the Confederate Flag! Grand Tableau! And the curtain falls upon the first act of the great drama amidst thunders of applause.” Justin had sprung to his feet, and was standing gazing with starting eyes, distended nostrils and clenched teeth at the speaker. “What the demon ails you, man? Are you mad?” exclaimed the rebel captain. “I would return the question! What ails you? Are you mad? Are you drawing imaginary pictures black as the scenes of Dante’s Inferno? Are you talking at random? Do you know what you are saying?” demanded Justin, glaring at his guest. “Yes, I know very well what I am saying; I am saying that we have stormed and carried Fort Sumter! That we have dragged down to the dust the proud Star-Spangled Banner that never was humbled before!” said the rebel captain, helping himself to another great bumper of the strong old brandy that was now beginning to affect even his seasoned system, so as to inflame his blood and dim his perceptions. “Oh! dread God of Battles, where stayed thy thunderbolts?” exclaimed Justin, starting from the table and hurriedly pacing the whole length of the grotto. He felt an almost uncontrollable desire to take this man by the throat and hurl him through the door; but he remembered that the man was his own invited guest, and had sat at his board, broken his bread, and drank his health; he also reflected that only from this man could he get the information which he was so anxious to obtain, and so restrained his impulse. Meanwhile Captain Spear deceived himself with that common delusion which blinded so many Secessionists to the sentiments of loyal Southerners, whom they supposed to be fellow Secessionists, merely because they were fellow-citizens; and his perceptions were still further obscured by the fumes of the brandy he had swallowed, and so he utterly misunderstood the character of Justin Rosenthal, and mistook the cause of his excitement. He believed that the young man, being a native of the South, must be an advocate of Secession, and that his great emotion was in sympathy with his own high exultation over the victory he had just been describing.